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HAPPY CHILDREN 

AND 

OTHER VERSES 



By M. W. M. 




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"^S^iik' \>^ 



Book-.7^ ,7'? -H3 

CORfRIGHT DEPOSIT 



HAPPY CHILDREN 

AND 

OTHER VERSES 







NEW YORK 

FRANK F. LOVELL 

1920 



Copyright, 1920 

BY 

FRANK F. LOVELL 



©CLA571274 



TO 

WHOSE LOVE, FAITH, 

AND 

DEVOTION 

TO HER CHILDREN, 

I STRIVE TO EMULATE 

TOWARDS MINE 



HAPPY CHILDREN 



THE HAPPY CHILDREN 

There were five children who owned the world, 

The whole world, 

A golden world. 
Five happy children who loved the world, — 
The world was at their feet. 

They loved the sea, they loved the fields, 

The fragrant fields, 

The warm fields, 
Daisies and thistles in playing fields 
And all the world was sweet. 

The forest of pines blew overhead. 

Where squirrels fled, 

And the children said 
"Let's pretend to be Indians red 
In feathers and wampum clad." 

They played on the sand by the good blue sea 

They sailed the sea, 

They swam the sea; 
They paddled and rowed on the laughing sea 
And all their days were glad. 

S 



They followed the wood paths endlessly 

Where they could see 

Importantly, 
Small homes of ant and wasp and bee 
And thought themselves very wise. 

Taught by the rain and wind and sun 

Much quiet fun, 

They loved the sun 
Those happy children of the sun 
Beneath Cotuit skies. 



CYNTHIA 

Where close-cropped turf elastic yields 
Beneath her chestnut's feet 
She wings the long, brown, friendly j&elds 
With flying, rhythmic beat. 

Where silver ripples, cool and still 
Break at her rushing dive 
She wakes the placid depth, until 
The drowsy sea's alive. 

Where challenging the target stands 
"Nay, who will be so bold!" 
She laughs, and speeds with slender hands 
Her arrows to the gold. 

Earth, sea and air, she holds them all 
Triumphantly in fee. 
Nor knows how close they have in thrall 
Her Maiden Spirit free. 



MY CHILDHOOD 

A happy child, I wandered on the sand, 

Watching the ripples slip along the beach 

Running light-footed, to be out of reach. 

When one, more bold, came rushing up the land. 

I saw the gulls wheel, sparkling 'gainst the blue 

Lay on the bank where pines spread their soft mist 

Against a peacock sea; and I would list 

To whip-poor-will or thrush the summer through; 

Or, floating hghtly, 'neath a sky of stars 

In phosphorescent waves I'd he and see 

The fireflies at play. Oh! Dawn of years! 

Oh! Children playing near the deodars, 

May your glad sunrise as enchanted be 

As mine, — that still in golden hue appears. 



TO JEAN 

Your moods from petulant to winsome run 
Where child and dawning maiden are at play- 
Like whim and froHc of an April day, 
Or pulsing radiance 'neath a cloud-crossed sun. 
Puck's sister now, all twinkling mirth and fun. 
Now Rosalind's of witching yeas and nays, 
Grave Martha's next, deep-skilled in household ways. 
Then garden-wise, you rival Ceres. None 
Of all the pretty sisterhood but lends 
Some trait or fancy, wilful, sage or sweet. 
You dance through sunny days on happy feet 
And linger wistful when glad daylight ends. 
May this dear prelude set your lifelong theme 
In harmony of wit, work, happiness and dream. 



ALISOUN 

My dainty, elfin, fair-haired maid 

Of wayward mood. 
By love and loving only, swayed 

To bidden good. 

A word, a tone, a gesture e'en 

By love inspired, 
Will wing her footsteps, light her keen 

Spirit untired. 

The dullest task has secret charm 

When love's astir. 
But, love away, some hidden harm 

Makes dark from fair. 

A fairy poem tripped along 

Her baby tongue, 
With love as simple as a song 

A bird has sung; 

For she would paint the bluest blue 

Her heart could yield, 
Would pluck the prettiest flower that grew 

In her love's field. 

Her searching lips, more tutored art 

Surpassing far. 
Rippled, "You heart, you lovely heart, 

You sweetheart star." 

10 



May love forever be her star, 

And ever kind, 
Leading her up, leading her far. 

Life's best to find. 

Until unwearied, wise, alert 

Early or late. 
She reach, still loving and unhurt 

Death's golden gate. 



BEATRICE 

A rush, a whirr, a laughing shout 

Of childish glee. 
Now what is Beatrice about? 

I'd better see. 

Is there a dragon-fly to chase? 

Rabbit to follow? 
She's flashing off with merry face, 

Swift as a swallow. 

Or who will fish with hook and Une? 

Why Beatrice. 
And who will catch the gold-fish fine? 

Just hers the bliss. 

If fun's afoot in field or wood 

I'll find her there, 
With stocking torn, and fallen hood, 

And tangled hair. 

Has she a treasure David claims? 

All generous now, 
She yields it. Must he win at games? 

She'll show him how. 

From mood to mood, from deed to deed 

She flits and flies 
A-wing for change, her dearest need, 

Some new surprise. 

12 



Bright Spirit, vivid, loving, sweet, 

Happy, intense, 
May life so lead your dancing feet 

Thtough its immense 

Great round of change and wonder, you 

Well satisfied. 
Shall hve each best experience through, 

Not one denied. 



TO DAVID 

My little son with tousled head, 
Small nose a-tilt and wilful eyes, 
Swift, flitting, will-o'-wispish mite. 
What are the rules will make you wise? 

The selfishness that lies behind 
Your little funny naughtiness, 
The gallantry that bade you pause 
And blow me, through shut door, a kiss, 

The courage and the manfulness 
Which taught you, when you saw my pain 
Was greater for your hurt than yours, 
And bade you cry, " All well adain!" 

Where may they lead you, where indeed? 
What are the lessons on your way? 
What are the pitfalls for your feet 
Along the dusty dreary way? 

How can I arm you to endure? 
How can I give you vision free. 
For which to Uve, for which to die, 
To follow through eternity? 

Shall Life or I your teacher be? 
May I be teacher too, with Life? 
I feel so wise with you so young. 
Though I'm a novice in the strife. 
14 



Dear David, one thing I have learned 
I would that you could learn from me, — 
Until that tyrant self of yours 
Is conquered, you will not be free. 

Until your hands are on the reins 
Of your own will, you cannot rule. 
Till you are master of yourself 
You are the world's toy, and its fool. 

When you can open morning eyes 
Upon the beauty of the day 
And say "My work's before me plain," 
And, "I am nothing, nothing," say, 

Then all the flood of loveliness. 
Of shining peace, joy, hope, delight, 
Will rush to fill that empty space, 
Making your "nothing" one great hght. 

I know this, dear, but how to say 
The words so that your soul shall hear? 
Ah! How indeed? No words, no words, 
Only Love's voice, My Very Dear. 



15 



THE ARRIVAL 

I see them at last, — the four Uttle blue-clad figures 
Waiting a trifle wistfully, sitting a-row and safe. 
They catch my smile as the train hurries into the 

station 
And with patter of light feet they rush down the 

platform 
To meet me as I aUght, when the train, creaking, 

stops. 
They gather close, caressing, eager, with happy 

cries, 
" Dear old Mummy, Sweet woman! How good you've 

come!" 
And I settle my wings around them like a glad bird 



i6 



THE SHADOWlCOUSINS 

We've got your pictures on the wall, 
We've got you in our hearts, 
We wish the sea were not so wide, 
Whenever summer starts. 

We talk about the yellow sand, 
The gold and silver shells. 
The fiddlers and the horseshoe crabs 
Of which Grandmother tells. 

We want to fish with you for scup, 
And paddle, "wade," you say 
And sail and swim and row and climb 
In the Cotuit way. 

We want to run along the beach 
And feel the sHppy sand. 
And dig deep holes, to watch the sea 
Come creeping to our hand. 

And will you show us arbutus 
And ladies' shppers too 
And wintergreen, and Charlotte's lace 
Where all the fairies grew? 

And may we join your treasure hunt 
With ribbons streaming wide. 
And find the hundred pretty toys 
That Grandmother will hide? 

We wish. Oh! How we wish that soon 
Your faces we might see! 
Beloved Shadow Cousins, 
Victoria and Lee. 

17 



THE BELOVED BLOSSOM 

A laughing fairy with rainbow wings 
Was caught in a cup of pearl, 
Above it Titania waved her wand 
And out stepped a little girl. 

Her golden curls like petals frame 
Her mischievous, dimpled face 
Like a yellow rose, or a daffodil 
Perfumed with love and grace. 

And all the fancies the fairies have 
Are met in her baby smile, 
For she knows the most enchanting ways 
To capture and beguile. 

Her words flit merry as humming-birds 
That dart into every flower, 
The flowers of all the loving hearts 
That weave her guardian bower. 

There's not a caress nor a pretty way 
Whose secret she doesn't know, 
She wins a kiss for her rougish pranks 
And a toy for her tiny woe. 

Precious and cherished, she spreads around 
The fragrance of childhood sweet; 
So I send this httle tender word 
The Beloved Blossom to greet. 
i8 



THE| HAPPY SONG 

I spread my wings through the arch of Spring, 

And call to the birds, "Let us sing, sing, sing! 

The Winter is gone with its grieving dark. 

Come with us, Robin and Thrush and Lark, 

Sing in our choir of joy, joy, joy. 

Crying to every girl and boy 

To join in our song and our glad free hearts, 

Forgetting the world and its dusty marts; 

Only singing o'er heather and thorn, 

We are glad, glad, glad that we were born." 

There are the flowers with peeping smile 

Gilding the meadows for mile on mile. 

There with a laugh comes the strong blue sea 

Carolling, dashing, mad and free. 

The whole world is singing an infinite song. 

Forgetful of sighing Winter's wrong. 

Our hearts are filled and overflow 

With our joy in the beautiful things we know. 

And we sing till eve from early morn, 

We are glad, Oh! Glad that we were born. 

Glad that this wonderful world is ours, 
Wreathed in its garment of leaves and flowers; 
Glad of the sun, and glad of the trees, 
Of the birds and butterflies and bees. 
Glad that the Night has wed the Moon, 
That the sweet stars shine, that May melts to June, 
That the sky is blue and the clouds are white, 
That bright day fades into tender night. 
That gentle night will wake with the mprn, 
We are glad, so glad that we were born. 
19 



We follow the wind for hours on end, 
And everj" coppice holds a friend. 
A squirrel whisks to the high oak spray 
Chattering, laughing, he seems to say : 
"Aren't you glad you have found my nest. 
Glad to be out on your wild-wood quest. 
Glad that the pheasant roams in the bush, 
That the Uttle rabbits their noses push 
Through the cool tall grass by the waving corn 
Aren't you glad, glad, glad that you were born?" 

Song bubbles up from our merry lips 

Sweet as honied store that the wild bee sips 

From columbine gay in the forest glade. 

Where all last night the fairies played 

In the shadow and glimmer under the leaves, 

WTiich the soft night wind in patterns weaves 

Like a delicate carpet of hght and shade 

For Titania's dainty footprints laid. 

And the Fair\^ Herald winds his horn 

To join our refrain, — we're glad we were born. 

"We are glad, we are glad, we are glad," we sing, 

"That sullen Winter has yielded to Spring. 

Glad we may gather the primrose pale 

That pours its gold over hill and vale. 

Glad that the brooks are all set free 

To add their murmuring minstrelsy 

To our joyous voices that sound so shrill 

Up the valley and over the hill. 

Till in one chorus we greet the morn. 

We are glad, Oh, Glad! that we were born." 



20 



A YOUNG BIRD SINGS 

Over the world, around the world 
I speed on my pinions Hght, 
Up the world and down the world 
Then home again at night. 

Fair is the world, sweet is the power 
To flutter hke wind-blown foam. 
But Oh! How dear is the evening hour 
That brings me safely home! 



SECRETS 

When the sun is shining, glad and strong and bright, 
The meny bu"ds are happy and singing in the Hght, 
All the flowers are dancing, rabbits frisk about 
Because the night is ended and now the sun is out. 
When I see the sunbeams shpping through the trees 
Like steep cobweb stairways that waver in the 

breeze. 
When I see the golden Ught spreading ever>'where, 
Round the yellow buttercups, in the Baby's hair, 
^^TMiisper.) Then I'm the sim! 

When I feel the rain come brusliing in my face 
Soft as Mother's fichu, that's all of tilmy lace; 
When the jolly raindrops glisten on the leaves, 
And ever\- friendly robin hides beneath the eaves; 
If the stm comes laugliuig across the simmier shower 
There will be a rainbow brighter than a flower, 
All the drooping blossoms hft their heads agam 
Because they were so thirsty they wanted it to rain. 
(Whisper.) Then Fm the rain! 

When I hear the wind go rushing in the trees 
Rising from a whisper, spreading to a breeze. 
Shrieking to a tempest, howling in a storm, 
And ever^-body's indoors, safe and snug and warm; 
When I hear it rattling at the window pane 
Blowing all the leaves abotit, dashing, wet with rain, 
Shouting down the cliimney. wailing roimd the door, 
Creeping in at all the cracks, cold across the floor, 
(Whisper.) Then I'm the wind! 



When I see the starlight shine into the room 

The high old trees are shadowy like giants in the 
gloom ; 

The sky's so steep and far away, and deep and blue 
and all 

That even if I climbed it most likely I should fall; 

The scars are clear and quiet, I think they under- 
stand 

How much I'd Uke to touch them, that's why I 
stretch my hand ; 

I watch them and love them and listen to their song 

And though the night's not sleepy it doesn't seem 
too long, 

(Whisper.) For Ftn the stars! 



23 



A CHILD'S SUPERSTITION 

The new moon laughed at me to-night 

From fibiiy web of cloud. 
And caught my heart up in her hght 

When I laughed back and bowed. 

"For Luck!" I cried, and nodded thrice. 

I thought she nodded too. 
"I've Luck,'' she said, "For those I love 

And there's a bit for you. 

You know you mustn't watch for Luck 

But just be glad and good." 
"I know," I said. Like a good child 

I whispered that I would. 

So all this month Fm honour bound 

To be as glad as glad. 
And good as good too, that I've found 

Easy, if you're not sad. 

If I can keep my spirit Hght 

Until the month is past, 
There's sure to be some luck around, 

'Twill come to me at last. 



24 



THE PENNY WHISTLE 

Wistful I wandered through the glade and up the hill, 
The sky was near and shadowy, the Whispering 
Trees were still. 
When I picked up a penny whistle. 
Just a tiny plaything dropped by a running child, 
I blew a slow breath through it; it sounded sweet 
and wild, 
So I kept the penny whistle. 

Sometimes when I am lonely or sad and full of doubt. 
And life seems such a cruel thing that tosses one 
about, 
I take out my penny whistle. 
And play a little simple tune of sun and wind and 

flowers 
Or the sea that sings along the sand through dreamy 
summer hours. 
Then I'm glad because of my whistle. 

It's such a slender trifle to comfort a sad heart. 
Yet there's something magic in its tone that takes 
away the smart. 
So I cherish my penny whistle. 
I wish that I could let you hear the pleasant trills and 

mild. 
The sort of things you heard perhaps when you were 
but a child 
Come from my penny whistle. 

25 



If it could give you comfort or drive your blues 

away 
I'd play for you and play for you through all the 
livelong day 
Tunes on my penny whistle. 
But perhaps you'd only laugh and stop your ears and 

say "Enough"! 
Those jingling, tinkling melodies are very idle stuff, 
Why! It's only a penny whistle" ! 

So I think I'll keep it hidden and softly take it out 
When I am quite alone with stars and brooks and 
birds about 
Then play on my penny whistle. 
And starlight and twittering birds and murmuring 

water soon 
In lilting happy chorus will mingle with the tune 
Of my merry little whistle. 

And all the petty teasing things that worried me 
and vexed 

Or filled with contradictions that troubled me, per- 
plexed 
Will fly at the sound of my whistle, 

Till back through pleasant twilight groves and 
friendly forest ways 

I'll linger, light of heart again, and full of loving 
praise 
For my Comrade, Penny Whistle. 



26 



THE GIFT 

Maxoe sent a gift to me 
Of inwoven pearls. 

What can I return to her, 
Sweetest of all girls? 

I have not a pearl to send, 

Not an amethyst. 
Would a wreath of roses do 

If each one I kissed? 



FAITHLESS PYRRHA 

Late last night my Pyrrha said 

She was all my own. 
With the morning hght I found 

All her fancies flown. 

Will they flutter to the hall 
Where Almoethes sits? 

If they do, my heart will break 
Into httle bits. 



COMPUNCTION 

Why should I praise the sunshine in your curls 

When over there, 
Beloved eyes are closed forever, 'neath 

Blood-dabbled hair? 

27 



THE TEA PARTY 

Oh! Clotho, haste your tiring! 

The light of afternoon 
Is slowly fading overhead, 

We are expected soon. 

If I am not at Myrrha's 
When Clermines arrives, 

I'll die at least a hundred deaths 
And lose a hundred lives! 



DOUBT 

I heard the swallows' twitter 
Drop down from out the blue 

Like dainty, frail love-letters 
That come to me from you. 

I vow the swallows' twitter 
Will just as lasting prove 

As these deceptive missives 
That tell me of your love. 



CHEATED 

Spring threw its beauties at me for a day 
Then turned and laughing, tripped lighftoot 

away. 
And Love glanced at me with a starUke eye 
Then flew as fast away as he could fly. 
28 



HAPPY GOATHERD 

Glaxo, lead your goats this way 

Down the stony hill, 
Sit with me among the ferns 

By this little rill. 

Show me your philosophy. 

Why are you content? 
What has made your flute to be 

Sweetly eloquent? 

"My content no secret hides. 

What have I to wish 
While my flock lush pasture crop 

From their thorny dish? 

" While my heart is safe and sound 

In dear Phryne's hands 
Who will keep it close and warm 

In love's steadfast bands?" 



29 



DELIGHTFUL SURPRISE 

Rheta, which of all the youths 

With ambrosial curls 
Has first place within your heart 

Queen of lovely girls? 

I am old and desolate, 

Do not take amiss 
That I thus should question you, 

Come! Which is it? Miss? 

"None of all those foppish youths 

Has my heart in thrall. 
Since you first appeared to me, 

You have had it all." 



30 



A COQUETTE 

If Sapho vowed her heart to me 
Ah! Naught would be more sweet. 

By what return of troth could I 
The little mischief meet? 

I know she does not want my heart 

Forever and a day. 
A day, perhaps, but after that 

She'd throw it quite away. 

Perhaps my head would do as well 
With wealth of wistful rhyme, 

Would catch her heart and keep it mine 
A little longer time. 



31 



HOPELESS LOVER 

Phyllis puts her thirsty lips 

To my silver cup, 
Laughs before a drop she sips, 

Looking slyly up. 

How I wish my heart had turned 

Into fragrant wine 
E'er for her my spirit burned 

With this pain divine! 

Surely then my brimming cup 
From the jar had dipped 

All my love, and she perforce 
Of my soul had sipped. 



32 



PANS PIPES 

Shrilling through a birchen grove 
Mad and merry, joyous, free, 

Trilled the happy pipes of Pan 
Calling, calhng me. 

Every mischievous intent, 
Every fancy, every whim 

Of my disobedient heart 
Answered, answered him. 

Under skies of blue and rose 
Far from cities built by man 

In that grove of white and gold 
I will dance with Pan. 

Cornish, N. H., October 11, 1919 



33 



A LAUGHING SONG 

I will go down into the fields with Love. 
I will go down into the laughing fields 
In search of treasure that the cowslip yields, 
Cowslip, that tosses gold where'er we rove. 

There Love and I will heap our cowshp balls 
To prove by battle who has greater heart, 
He with his wiles and witcheries and art, 
Or I who hear and follow where love calls. 

But if I vanquish all-desired Love 

I shall deprive myself by his undoing. 

For Love defeated, who shall go a'-wooing? 

And who, unwooed, can life's enchantment prove? 

But quick unvanquished Love shall conquer me. 
And by that triumph leave me sadder still 
Than if by cowslip showers I could kill 
My tjTant dear, and lovehest enemy. 

So I, perforce, must check a skilful cast 
And pray that to Love's volleys I succumb, 
Till back returning, Love and I shall come 
And vow our fii'st affray shall be our last. 



34 



SUGGESTED BY SEEING PINK HAW- 
THORN IN THE GREEN PARK 

There are hawthorns in the valley 

And the mist climbs up the hill. 

Oh! There's fragrance in the valley by the brook! 

And I'm off with wind and weather, 

We will search for Spring together, 

For she's hiding in the valley. Look! Oh, Look! 

Underneath the hazel bushes 

Where the tossing bluebells grow 

And the sunbeams peep and frohc with the shade. 

Sunbeams run! and we will follow 

Swifter than the flight of swallow. 

Through the valley and the flower-painted glade., 

Can you say how glad your heart is 

When the hawthorn is in bloom 

And the bubbhng blossom perfumes all the air? 

Let us greet the Spring together 

For you hold my heart in tether 

To my love for you, and Oh! That love is fair. 



HOME 

My home is not shut in by four strait walls 
Nor bounded by one broad horizon line; 
But where my heart rejoices, nearer God, 
Beneath the changing sky is home of mine. 

35 



ALL SAINTS' DAY REVERIE 

From the pale sorrow of November's birth 
I dream myself away into the past, 
My cherished hoard of moments, visions, joys, 
To swell the fire of remembrance, cast. 

The purple sea is spread 'neath August haze, 
Around me rise the fragrant friendly pines. 
The perfume mingles with the burning sands 
And poignant sweetness from the wild grape vines. 

My feet sink slipping in the yielding path 
That marks my lingering progress through the wood. 
My brushing skirts catch in the sharpened twigs 
Of teasing scrub-oak. In this spot I stood 

A thousand times to watch the white clouds pass 
Across the feathered branches overhead. 
I hear the mad sweet riot of the thrush 
Where in azalea shade he's thicketed. 

I cross the dyke. Above, man's fostering hand 
Has set the bogs whose glistening berries soon 
Will dot with crimson the green glossy leaves. 
Below, the marsh is spread. From June to June. 

An ever-changing medley of delight 
Colours and flowers 'neath the varied skies 
Garlanded now with roses wild and sweet. 
Now, circling golden-rod's bright torches rise. 

My path strikes on through tangled undergrowth 
That half obliterates its purposed way 
Till sudden there's a break, a level space, 
All my companion trees are fallen away. 
36 



Below me lies the sweetest landlocked bay 
God in his pleasure ever thought for man. 
Blue, whispering, endlessly serene 
Beneath the sky. Or ever Time began 

It lay there musing, and when Time is done 
It still will lie in peace. Here then an hour 
I'll throw me down among the springy vines 
Of creeping scarlet crowberry. This dower 

Of beauty and of promise shall be mine. 
I'll float above the ripples like the wind 
And learn the secret of its murmured song. 
Or like the flashing silver fishes, finned, 

I'll search its farthest inlets. Here I find 
The gentle spot where sheltered most secure 
With all my dearest fancies I might dwell 
Out of the world beside this influence pure. 

This tiny acre would be all my need, 
A sack of meal and water from my well, 
A thatch against the storm and winter wind 
Here lost, and doubly safe, content I'd dwell. 

The all-unanswered riddle of the years 
Would here unravel, and my eyes would see 
Truth simple as the dawn. All hopes, all fears 
Would fall away in wise simplicity. 

A dream, a dream, I dream a pretty dream. 
And as from all fair dreams I must awake. 
The night is flying under English skies, 
Beneath dear English skies my day will break. 
37 



RESTLESSNESS 

My heart is full of music, 

My world is full of song, 

And I would be off to the tall woods 

To dwell there long. 

I'd throw away the comfort 
Silken and subtle enough 
That steals the gold from the sunset 
And live life rough. 

Rough and easy and magic 
Under the eyes of the stars, 
Friend of Aquila, Orion, 
And great god Mars. 

Perhaps a nymph or a dryad. 
Or sister of dusky Pan, 
Part myth and partly spirit 
Of wild-wood clan. 

Drowsing under a pine-tree 
When noon burns fragrant and still, 
While I see the white gulls circle, 
Hear song-sparrow trill. 

Watching the bees and the squirrels 
Busy and clever and wise 
With all the wisdom of cliildren 
And God in the skies. 
38 



Drifting at night in the shallows, 
Warm from the heat of the day, 
Till body is melted to spirit 
Both, floating away. 

Floating up to the starlight 

Out of the misty sea. 

Till turned to a cloud or a moonbeam 

At last I'm free. 



39 



ARETHUSA 

Clematis climbed to the top of a tree, 
Climbed to the top of the black yew tree, 
And hung in its dusky shade. 
When summer loosened her filmy gown, 
Foaming and white it came rushing down, 
And a bubbHng waterfall made. 

Fm perfectly certain that Arethuse, 

Tired of Sicily's grays and blues, 

And spying a chance to be free 

From Alpheus' all too loving arms, 

Has fled with her beauty and laughing charms 

To dwell in my garden with me. 

And so when I see the white clouds play. 

Beyond the dashing clematis spray 

I watch for the god, lest he 

Turned into mist should come searching here 

For the dainty maiden he loves so dear, 

The N3anph that he longs to see. 

It wouldn't surprise me a single bit 
If some soft night when the small bats flit 
Through the shadows under the stars, 
I entertain great company 
Under the broad old walnut tree 
By the feathery deodars. 

40 



I mean to watch so quiet and still, 
If I'm very patient perhaps he will 
Come for his Love one night, 
And in the sweetness and silence here, 
Perhaps her heart will awake and hear 
Till she yields and follows his flight. 

And when next morning I run to see 
Clematis splashing down from the tree, 
Of course I'll find she's fled. 
Alpheus' prayer wifl be answered at last, 
The Lovers' Rubicon happily passed. 
Her first "I love you," said. 

I'll always beheve the wilful maid 

Hides in the sheltering yew-tree's shade, 

Till she and Alpheus go 

Flitting as suddenly away 

As the crest of a wave in rainbow spray. 

And then, why then I'll know! 



41 



A VALENTINE 

The year has run its golden round 

Maid Spring comes dancing in 

With sigh of shower, 

And smile of flower, 

And blackbird's merry din. 

The elm-tree flings its tasseled twigs 
Across the April blue. 
My heart's a-wing 
With songs of Spring 
For you, my dear, for you. 



42 



AQUARELLE 

Raindrops in the hawthorn twigs 
Black and cold and dripping, 

Just this lazy little wind 
Soon will set them slipping. 

Garden's like a cup of mist 
Rimmed about with trees 

Tall and sad and limp and wet 
In the listless breeze. 

Lilac buds are shivering, 

Almond blossom's shy, 
Robin's hidden in the yew 

Half afraid to fly. 

Thrush is scolding at the damp. 

Pussy creeps forlorn. 
Garden beds are like a swamp, 

Not a blossom born. 

Snowdrop tries to hide away 

From the murky chill, 
Wishes it had stayed at home 

'Neath its little hill. 

Violet and daffodil 

Last week looked so gay, 
Three whole days of sleet and mist 

Frightened them away. 

What a time of mirk and gloom! 

Desolation drear! 
You can guess without more words 

February's here. 
43 



SPRING SNOW 

The garden's full of daffodils and crocuses and prim- 
roses, 
Frocks purple, white and yellow, in a merry dancmg 

row; 

They're nodding to each other and pretending, "bal- 
ance partners!" 

When suddenly a cold wind has turned Spring 
shower to snow. 

Each crocus has a frilled cap of lacy snow-white 

crystals, 
The daffodils are draped in dainty star-embroidered 

rouGS 
The primroses are snuggled under heaps of fluffy 

snow-flakes, 
Their yellow faces shining through Uke hghted golden 
globes. 

A snow-storm in the Winter's not half so soft and 

pretty , 

As now, when Spring-time's runmng round the 

garden with a cheer. 
I love to see what fun the flowers are having in the 

fluriy 
And know that spite of chill and frost the Summer 11 

soon be here. 



44 



VILLANELLE 

Winter's knocking at the door., 
With the sound a face peeps out, 
Autumn pleads for one day more. 

"There are apples on the floor, 
Leaves are scattered all about." 
Autumn pleads for one day more. 

"Just to-day the West wind tore 
My cloud curtains." With a pout 
Autumn pleads for one day more. 

"Come! You'd wait till Spring before 
Going! You forget no doubt, 
Winter's knocking at the door!" 



45 



DECEMBER 

A robin sings at sunset, 
A ring-dove coos at noon, 

An owl's cry at midnight 

Floats shrill beneath the moon. 

A snow-drop in the morning 
Droops bell of greenish pearl. 

The daisies' pink-tipped petals 
Their silken fringe unfurl. 

SUght songs, and swift impressions, 

New flowers, yet so old; 
They bind my heart to England 

With welded chain of gold. 



46 



AWAKENING 

I heard a chaffinch singing in the dawn 

While my half-drowsy sense dehcious hung 

'Twixt sleep and waking. The refrain he flung 

Across the sounding-board of silvered lawn 

Was "Spring-time, Spring, Spring, Spring-time." 

So he wove 
A spell in every shade of melody 
Exultant, "Spring, sweet Spring, glad Spring-time!" 

He 

Made coloured patterns on a theme of love. 

I would not change his dear ecstatic song 

For richest setting of orchestral scope. 

The morning's promise and the day's best hope 

To that triumphant orison belong. 

May "Spring, fair Spring-time" echo down the 

years 
Promise and exhortation to my ears. 



47 



DAYBREAK 

Exultant Blackbird leads the hosts of song 

That challenge prison night to set day free; 

And my glad heart upspringing, light as he 

With silent concord joins the matin throng. 

From tree to tree the chorus runs along 

And back and forth in woven harmony 

Melodious iteration, ceaseless, free 

"Haste! Warder night, your vigil is too long!" 

Then timid morn, a-peep between the trees 

Listens with rosy blush her lovers' praise. 

"Sweet Love," they sing, "Fair Dawn thy beams 

up-raise 
And bless with radiance thy votaries." 
So, slipping down the stairway of the sky 
She greets each Lord of woodland melody. 



48 



THE LITTLE TRAINS IN ENGLAND 

Sometimes when I perforce must flash along 
These swift, great, lordly highroads of the rail, 
I pass some hamlet in a winding vale. 
With rush of platforms vanishing ere long — 
A cobweb center for the gathered throng, 
Where, sleepy, waiting for their leisured path, 
The little trains, the trains old wisdom hath 
Taught all the wayside secrets, ages long, 
Wait to be off for haunts of thyme and rue, 
And bright June roses wet with early dew ; 
Old terraced gardens; gables, ivy-crowned; 
Gray towers that send their chimes through miles 

around 
With peaceful message to the country-side 
Through the heart's heart of England, deep and wide. 



49 



LLANDRINDOD 

Llandrindod cradled 'mid a hundred hills, 

You turn your laughing dimples to the sky. 

A rosy favoured, happy Prince you lie. 

Soothed by the murmur of your myriad rills; 

Unlearned in strife and innocent of ills 

Your most lamenting note a Zephyr's sigh; 

In verdure mantled, your bright destiny 

Crowns you with flowers, and your chahce fills 

With flowing health, which you in regal mood 

Pour generous, unstinting to our need ; 

But most for our poor world-sick souls your meed 

Of light and beauty rush in bounteous flood. 

We come in beggared plight your aid to sue. 

Returning laden rich with gifts from you. 



50 



AT CRAVEN ARMS 

These are the gifts that were given to me 
At Craven Arms in the Shropshire hills. 
An open door where I could see 
Geraniums a-row on the window sills. 

Old oak tables polished and black, 
And high oak panelling, polished too, 
Where Darby or Hobden leans his back 
When there's no more work, for the day, to do; 

Two lovers leaning over a gate; 
Children lightfoot on their way from school 
Shaken by laughter and fearless of fate, 
Free for an hour from precept and rule; 

Blue hills under cloud-painted sky; 
Gray old church brooding quiet and dim, 
O'er its loving pride in the boy who could fly 
And dare the sun, till bright Death dared him— 

RambHng castle of high romance, 
Smoky beams of the banquet hall, 
Revelry, music, jest and dance 
Knights and ladies and dwarfs and all, 

When life was rude but life was gay 
And strong and fierce in that lawless time. 
This window perchance heard a roundelaiy, 
A lover paced here while he sought a rhyme, 
51 



And here at the top of the tower tall 
Are grooves where the boiling oil was poured 
Down on the heads of the foemen, all 
The savage and reckless robber hoarde. 

A lingering walk through a pleasant lane 
Sweet with the fragrance of clover fields; 
These are the gifts I may find again, 
These part of the magic that Shropshire yields. 



52 



RESTORATION 
' To I. K. W. 

Over the hills on the top of the world, 

Over the high hills brushing the sky, 
We have been wandering heart in heart, 

Lingering, you and I. 

Caught in a shower of falhng gold. 
Sun on the leaves that came fluttering down, 

Breathlessly watching the patterned hills, 
Crimson, yellow and brown; 

Hearing the dry leaves sing where our feet 
Rustled among the wind-gathered heaps. 

Tracing the river's green-foliaged curves 
Its eddying shallows and deeps; 

Fed by a handful of treasure-trove 

Smooth ghstening chestnuts that fell at our feet, 
Or apples silvered by dewy grass 

Luscious, and crisp and sweet; 

Lifted above our daily round 

Holding the wisdom of Time in fee 
Stirred with delight at a world new-born 

Created for you and me. 

We have been happy here, you and I, 

Life's taken on a quite different hue 
Through the magic of Friendship and trees and hills 

Through wizard Walpole and you. 
53 



A PLEA FOR GLADNESS 

The world is full of beauty and of love 
Wherewith boon nature dowered us at birth, 
Sunshine and fragrance, music, motion, mirth, 
Gay flowers that dance to the blue sky above 
And shall we then so all ungrateful prove 
As 'mid such plenty sourly mourn some dearth? 
Rich with the grace and loveliness of earth 
Shall we aloof and wilful-blindly move? 
Must dreams of some fond good we may not gain 
Some gift that sets the moon and stars at naught, 
Some farther sweet with flashing wonder fraught 
Mock us with hopes we never may attain? 
Teach us we are most blest when most content 
With simplest joy and kindliest merriment. 



54 



KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL 

I used to feel God never came so close 

As where earth, sea and sky together met; 

That no cathedral stones expectant set 

Had caught and held him manifest as those; 

Till this sweet shrine before my eyes arose, 

Its soaring roof enriched by stony fret, 

Its windows sprinkhng blue and violet 

Or steeping silver shafts in sifted rose. 

Here reverent art and kneeling worship strove 

To sanctify an aisle to Spirit free; 

Here prayer and winged anthem interwove 

Man's heart and God's love indivisibly. 

Within these consecrated walls there dwell 

Hope and aspiring Faith made visible. 



55 



MY BOOKS 



The room is quiet in the failing light 

Where stealthy shadows run about the jfloor, 

And hide in dusky corners by the door 

Waiting till evening deepens into night 

To creep and spread and hurry into flight. 

This is the hour when all my books ajar 

Open their pages and from near, from far 

My friends come crowding to my inner sight, 

Rushing and swarming, gentle, loving, near, 

Knowing I wait intent for each low voice 

And whispered murmur that my heart can hear, 

That stirs my pulse and cries "Dear Friend, rejoice. 

Question and harken, we for you unroll 

Ages of wisdom, loveliness of soul." 

II 

Here's one from that old volume ofttimes read : 
To hear that voice, to sup that spring of truth, 
I missed some ribbons, laces, dear to youth. 
And laughed, " I go adorned in my head, 
I'll wear dull homespun so my heart be fed, 
Give me my Poets! I am robed forsooth 
In royal purple." Here is one uncouth 
Old tattered comrade; his brave coat of red 
Faded to brown, discoloured with the rain. 
If I could woo the hours back again 
He charmed, I'd see the sunhght and the shade 
Beneath the pines, beside the mystic sea, 
I'd walk, a dryad in the forest glade. 
And he would come and godlike speak with me. 
S6 



Ill 

Here comes that wizard Balzac with his train 

So real to me I know not where truth ends 

And where his fantasy begins. My friends 

Modeste, the Cure, Medecin, I'm fain 

To call them all. I see them. Here again 

The other wizard, genial, kind and wise, 

His Colonel Newcome and Pendennis rise 

With all the breathing children of his brain. 

And here is David Balfour flushed with youth 

And rare bright Kirstie from her wind-swept heath, 

And Richard Feverel and all the throng 

That are more real to me than humdrum truth. 

In crowding circles, from above, beneath. 

Filling the room like a great choral song. 



IV 

And now my twilight loves are greeting me; 
One leads his fair Dream Children by the hand, 
The Brushwood Boy has searched across the sand. 
And brings his Annieanlouise. I see 
The Lantern-bearers, hiding each in glee 
His smoking lantern, poets in the rough. 
And "They" are hers and she has joy enough 
Though their sweet forms are veiled in mystery. 
With Peter Ibbetson I wander down 
The old, accustomed, dear Parisian ways 
And every Knight of great King Arthur's days 
Gives battle with fierce blow and towering frown. 
While Lily Maidens, Chiefs of high romance 
And laughing fairies join in witching dance. 

57 



TREASURE TROVE 

Who then are these that gently stand apart? 

Not mine, these friends, not mine and yet how dear! 

I slow caress, them feeling sharp and clear 

The thrill that runs from fingertips to heart. 

Their very presence does a grace impart 

As if their first great lover Ungered near, 

And felt content to know them gathered here, 

Safe from the haste and clatter of the mart; 

Sheltered, adored, kind-cherished for his sake. 

Honoured ambassadors whose slightest word 

With reverent humiUty is heard 

And my decision theirs to make or break. 

Thus high-companioned and advised I go; 

Time's feet may drag, they cannot move too slow. 



S8 



THE VENETIAN PALACE 

Night came and found us still delaying there 
In quiet converse, high above the tide 
Whence we had watched how sunset colours dyed 
The slow clouds crimson, turned to coral fair 
And faded into gray. You said, "I care 
More for this hour, sped dreaming by your side 
In our dear Venice, for our vision wide 
Of floating palaces, and that bubble there, 
Tender Salute, rising into air 
A disembodied spirit; for the tales 
Each lazy gondola has whispered ; sails 
Flying to port with some light-hearted care 
Of haste to home or gay piazza's throng; 
More, dear my friend, than for the rarest song." 



59 



SUGGESTED BY MACWHIRTER'S DRAWING 
"TREMEZZO, LAGO DI COMO" 

We walked by Como one glad afternoon, 

Sauntering idly, held by the delight 

Of all that beauty brimming to our sight, 

Our gracious Mother's voice in sweetest tune. 

With all the songs and harmonies of June, 

Her mantle, white and rosy, flower-bedight. 

Her lake thrown turquoise, till her mountain's height 

Towered far purple. Twilight fell too soon 

Upon our heedless footsteps. We had swung 

From earth to heaven and all the clouds among 

In our free musings on the way of things, 

Unheld, unhampered, as a meteor swings 

Across night's hollow, leaving but a path 

Of blazing sparks, — like pleasure's after-math. 



60 



ORVIETO 

The silver leaves of the blown olive trees 
Were flung across a sky of summer blue. 
Our road wound ever upward, passing through 
The ancient city gates. In Sunday peace 
We breathed the air of old faint mysteries. 
Forgotten manners lived for us anew. 
We gazed at the Cathedral where a crew 
Of saints and angels in a coloured frieze 
Above the tawny marble shone in gold, 
Purple and crimson. Saw the fainter glow 
Of Signorelh,— Fra Angehco,— 
Within the portals, resting while you told 
How, years before, on such another day 
Wandering alone you came this selfsame way. 



6i 



TO MATTHEW MARIS 

Poet and dreamer, mystic laureate, 
Colour you chose to set your vision free. 
Pouring your verse in glowing harmony 
Where light and feeling softly alternate, 
Mingled in alchemy so intimate 
We scarce can say our inner eye doth see. 
Or ear can hear the subtle melody 
That sharply eye and soul doth penetrate. 
Gentle and clear your beauty strikes our sight 
And yet so keen the message to our hearts 
We hover 'twixt uncertainty of Arts, 
Though no uncertain homage is your right, — 
Whether you Painter most or Poet be, — 
For visible song, and wordless poesy. 



62 



MY SAINTS 

My Saints are near, my Saints are in the sky, 

Ardent and finished, perfect in all grace. 

Benign, serene, niched every one in place, 

My Saints, not lost, set evermore on high. 

Clear and triumphant to that inner eye 

That sees adoring each beloved face 

Shine down with sacred smile, wherein I trace 

The old fond moments, unforgot, and try 

To catch the message that they strive to tell, 

"Seek Patience, Worship, Love for all the earth. 

Stars, flowers, and birds, sweet children, gentle 

mirth. 
And Love, wide Love. Love above all is well." 
My Saints, My Saints, why should I wish you here 
While Faith doth see you and while heart doth hear? 



63 



IN MEMORIAM 

S. K. L. 

1829-1917 

A crowned life, complete and beautiful. 
A tranquil progress, simple and sublime, 
Through girlhood, womanhood, to noble prime 
And down the slope of years with honours full. 
Her love sent out its slender binding threads 
Drawing her children nearer to her side, 
And children's children's children far and wide 
Received her gentle blessing on their heads. 
She strewed bright flowers all along her way, 
Such melody from her swift fingers fell 
And blossomed into roses : They could tell, 
Whose hearts were gladdened in that garden gay. 
We may not grieve her loss, nor murmur even. 
On earth one less, — one more sweet soul in Heaven. 



64 



ON HEARING MOTHER READING ALOUD 
TO HERSELF 

I heard a little murmuring fount of sound 
Bubbling and running, crystal-clear and sweet, 
Incessant, with the rhythmic fall and beat 
Of happy water playing underground. 
Then rising skyward with a single bound 
Into the sun, where singing birds would greet 
The pleasant music. Little dancing feet 
Would seek its marge and children gather round 
To chatter of their merry baby-play 
And bind the pink-tipped daisies into crowns, 
Or watch the sunbeams hiding in the spray 
And weaving rainbows bright as elfin gowns. 
A gentle fount, a fount of love and truth, 
Fresh as the waters of Eternal Youth. 



65 



TO CONSTANCE 

How can I tell you, dear, what you have done, 

Making a world already sweet and fair 

More lovely by your presence, and more rare 

A wider heaven of stars, more radiant sun, 

Two roses blossoming for every one 

That erstwhile poured its fragrance through the air, 

A richer choir of birds, a fuller share 

Of Faith and Hope and Courage to be won. 

Because you are, because you know, and see, 

A farther vision spreads for my beUef . 

That you have gained, have suffered, have become, 

Somewhat assures, somewhat emboldens me. 

Chary of joy, and half in love with grief 

I seek your path and cry, in hope, "I come!" 



66 



E. E. C. J. 

The ardent spirit of a happy child 

Enriched by garnered wisdom through the years 

Flames bright within her. Laughter meets with 

tears 
In gentle fellowship, serene and mild. 
Her loyalty and faith unwavering gain 
True friends for her. Ever her hopes, her fears 
Are spent for those she loves. 'Twould seem she 

hears 
God solve the mysteries of joy and pain 
And walks apart in some sweet quiet place 
Where spirit grows, safe-cloistered from all strife. 
And yet she feels and grieves with tenderest grace 
For others' woe, deep-wondering. Her life 
Is a Spring garden filled with every flower 
That heavenward smiles through sunshine and 

through shower. 



67 



J. M. W. 

Pale dusk is quivering with a stir of wings 
Where one great moth shines silver 'gainst the sky- 
Hiding the first faint star, or fluttering by 
Waits to caress my roses. Someone sings 
Far off a happy evensong that rings 
In long glad echoes, rising shrill and high. 
Then sinking to a Mother's luUabye 
That soothes and quiets little restless things. 
Through the soft twilight glides a slender sprite, 
Graceful and dancing, borne on flying feet; 
With flitting smile and soft hand, faiiy light 
Lingers one moment my delight to greet, 
Then vanishes from vision like a dream, 
A petal floating down a silent stream. 



68 



L'ENFANCE DE JEANNE D'ARC 

By Reginald Frampton 

Rapt kneeling maiden whose ecstatic eyes 
Dream-visioned, watch with soft, unfaltering gaze 
The miracle which shakes you with amaze, — 
Fair France in triumph crowned, exultant rise 
Amid a nation's glad victorious cries 
While you, slight maid, all humbly yet aflame 
Lead on the hosts, — forgetful how you came 
This morning 'neath the silver-misty skies 
Leading your sheep to pasture 'mid the flowers 
Where you have prayed and watched through all the 

hours 
Till shadow night now finds you, kneeUng stUl 
Among the liUes on this little hill, 
While your pale lantern spreads its lengthening rays 
Like the faint presage of your radiant days. 



69 



• TO E. B. B. 

Th' immortal poignant beauty of your song 
Startles my sense to sharp delight again 
And pulses through me like a wave of pain, 
Leaving me spent. My wreathed Priestess, long 
You moved trumphant 'mid a pressing throng 
Whose fainter chanting voices I was fain 
To join; heart, spirit, eager brain 
Bidding me venture, and my utmost wrong 
To you, that I would gently touch your lyre 
Striving to wake a soul in minor chords. 
Through strings where your great fingers striking fire 
That flashed to Heaven hke bright flaming swords 
Of melody, worked miracles that bless. 
But mark for me my own pale littleness. 



70 



THOMAS CARLYLE 

He read the stars to solve the fate of man, 

And thundered truths that made wide Heaven quake, 

And Earth's infirm foundations heave and shake. 

Of man's immortal right since Time began 

To work, to serve; through his allotted span 

Obhterate himself that he may make 

Sacrifice ever for another's sake 

In worship of the higher Man who can. 

Yet all his hfe he stumbled with blind feet 

Through the bright beauty of his humble day. 

To hungry waiting ears he did not say 

The longed-for word, divine and simply sweet. 

Intent on worlds to conquer, he forgot 

The fair, true flower in his garden-plot. 



71 



TO H. J. 

On Reading Hugh Walpole's "Green Mirror" 

You loved him, welcomed him, would have him take 
His place among the Immortals, held your hand 
In friendship to his youth, for him you planned 
High triumph; saw men apathetic, break 
In sharp applause, responsive. For his sake 
You dreamed old dreams, and seemed again to stand 
On the bright threshold of your conquered land; 
Throbbed with his pulse, with his young hope did 

wake. 
Now wise with all the wisdom of the spheres, 
And rich in revelation, close, you still 
Shed love around him and his striving fill 
With your great benediction through the years. 
And hasting down while all Parnassus hears 
Your glad "Hail Master!" lead him up the hill. 



72 



LA SALLE TAKES POSSESSION OF THE 
MISSISSIPPI FOR KING LOUIS IN 

1682 

From the high vantage of two centuries 

We see your life enclosed within its span 

Of finished days and deeds. For you began 

The promise and the vision. Yours to seize 

And wrest from Fate its opportunities 

To serve your purpose. Baffled you began 

Twice more your quest. Snows, forests, rivers ran 

'Twixt you and your design, but scorning these, 

Fearless, alone, you crossed a thousand leagues 

'Neath hostile skies, midst savage enemies 

Beset around with death and dark intrigues 

As who at darkest hour his triumph sees. 

Till, iron-hearted, hand unfaltering. 

You seized a world as guerdon for your King. 



73 



RABINDRANATH TAGORE 

I meet your eyes great Master, and greater Friend, 
Nor is there need of speech between us twain. 
Your spirit falls on mine like gentle rain. 
Washing it clean. I see no final end 
Nor first beginning of the light you send, 
As if your fire and truth you did attain 
From God himself, instilled by love and pain 
That on his gracious ministry depend. 
You have pierced the mysteries of Time and Space, 
And measured the abysses of deep life 
Looking serenely on your Maker's face, 
Appareled in Heaven's peace, apart from strife. 
You show me wonders on the path of truth 
Simpler than childhood or the grace of youth. 



74 



R. T. II 

I long to walk in your accustomed way- 
Proud with your soft disdain of self, and free 
With your obedience. Teach me to see 
Life as you see it, day succeeding day 
Each shining through a radiance mild, a ray 
Of glowing love. I too would learn to be 
Empty of hate. To bend to the decree 
Of full renunciation. Will you say 
" Follow my teaching well, you gain a friend 
Whose hand will lead you gently up the hill. 
Govern yourself. Curb your wild soul and will. 
The night shall vanish at the summit's end. 
The universe will stretch beneath your feet. 
Raise then your eyes th' eternal light to greet." 



75 



CONTENT 

Deep peace and happiness have come to me. 

The Everlasting Peace with brooding wings 

Hovers above my spirit. In all things 

Attuned to the exultant harmony 

Of Life and Love, the world around I see 

In perfect beauty, — flowers, — the flashing wings 

Of happy birds, and how the cloud-drift flings 

Its scarf against the blue, speak visibly 

Of God's immense, unutterable plan 

For me, — the last least atom in his world, — 

Decided, wrought, e'er he created man 

Or the first universal fragment hurled; 

Knowing the paradox, — I am most free 

When most my steps are led enforcedly. 



76 



DISCIPLINE 

We mourn Life's cruelty, 
And yet how wise 
Each lesson leaves us. 

Our bUnd souls cannot see 
That power devise 
Hurt that retrieves us. 

Until we learn to bend 

To Life's decrees, 

We suffer ever; 
But wiser in the end 

Harsh pain we seize 

To spur endeavour. 

Knowing our human clay 

Inclines to sloth 

And languid ease, 
We greet Life's sting and fray 

To aid soul's growth, 

Spirit's increase. 

I pray that when the key 

Of Time shall turn 

Death's waiting lock. 
Life's disciphne for me 

Will leave to learn 

No final shock. 

But fearless, armed, profound 

May I advance 

With eager tread. 
What if, so proved, I found, 

All pain perchance 

Already dead? 

n 



YOUTH'S FALLACY 

Triumphant Youth gazes across the flood 
Of years, and throws a glance of smiling pity 
Where Age, serene, seeks the Eternal City 
Forgetful of Youth's pride, Youth's ardent blood, 
Moving with statelier step in search of good, 
To aid, enlighten, succor human need; 
From Youth's desires and tempests gladly freed, 
He sees Heaven's glory through no selfish cloud. 
Nor looking back regrets the fading flowers 
The songs and dances of his early day. 
Courage and hope accompany his way; 
Glad effort and achievement crown his hours; 
He pays the price of wisdom with his youth, 
And gains content, experience, and truth. 



78 



RENEWAL 

My hopes are flashing a-wing to the stars 

And away 
We fly to the furthermost edge of night 

But stay ! 
What is this cUngs and hampers us so? 

Alas! 
Old sorrows, regrets, disappointments, all, 

That pass. 
Shake them away, and hasten, Time presses! 

Fly on! 
These cherished hours of striving, of flight 

Will be gone. 
FHng off the years and the tears, the old desires. 

The sighs. 
To-morrow is ours, to-morrow the sun 

Will rise! 



79 



MY MOOD 

My mood is like a butterfly 

That flits and woos a hundred flowers; 
Or web of gossamer that glints 

In rainbow changes through the hours. 

It's like a cloud that sails the sky 
And flies or lingers with the breeze; 

Or like the scarlet pimpernels 

That shut and open when they please. 

The shadow of a darting trout 
Moves more sedately than my mood. 

The murmur of soft-stealing dusk 
To its mild tenderness, is rude. 

There could not be a gentler thing, 
Nor wilder, fiercer, more untaught. 

Of every contradiction formed 
With pain and ecstasy enwrought. 

I fought my mood through many days, 
I fought and lost through sighing years, 

My strange mood brought this gift to me 
That laughter springs from fount of tears. 

I'll take this wild mood by the hand 
And walk with it where'er it list 

Through crowded streets or forest ways 
By shadow and by sunshine kissed, 
80 



My mood and I will just be friends, 
Adown this latter slope of life, 

Done with our doubts and our debates, 
Our hesitations and our strife. 

We'll sip the sweet of every flower. 

And laugh with sunshine and with ram. 

We'll love swift change and slow delay, 
And sleep and happiness and pain. 

My mood will cry "How this is sweet!" 
"Ah! Sweet indeed!" I too will cry, ^^ 

"And Life is good, and Death is good." 
My mood will say, and so shall I. 



8i 



TO MY WILFUL MUSE 

Thou fairy flitting Spirit of Caprice, 

That now dost fill my being with delight, 

Now coy, dost vanish from my hungry sight. 

Till, with my dwindHng hope, my needs increase ; 

Leave me no more, nor let thy magic cease 

To work enchantment on each daily sight. 

Thou who canst bind a chain of jewels bright 

From scattered blossoms, or, from murmuring trees 

And tinkling waters conjure symphonies, 

A ribbon favour from a rainbow weave, 

And from a friendly voice an echo leave 

That runs in musical, kind melodies 

Down happy days. Without thee I am naught. 

With thee, my soul in net of stars is caught. 



82 



'^THE MOTHERS SPEAK 

We poured out our hearts at your bidding 
And proudly we offered you then 
The red wine of love and of sorrow, 
Great Mother of Nations and men. 

We sent our Beloved to guard you. 
You took, nor considered our pain. 
They returned to us wounded and broken; 
There are those will return not again. 

We taught them your story, 0! Mother 
When at twilight they stood at our knees, 
Your honour, your glory, your service. 
We bade them not falter from these. 

By all the black hours they suffered, 
By the lessons you taught to their youth, 
You tried them and moulded and hardened. 
And sent them forth girded with truth. 

They have taken the measure of sorrow, 

And sounded the ocean of pain. 

They have looked in Death's face and defied 

him, 
They know that their loss has been gain. 

So, Mother, we grudge not our anguish, 
For you did we ward them and rear, 
To be yours, yours with uttermost striving. 
To serve you, Great Mother, Most Dear. 
83 



LORD KITCHENER 

You drew your sword in England's name 
And for your King made victory sure, 
Fearless to strike, firm to endure 
For Right, nor knew another aim. 
High-crested, stern, where'er you came, 
You plucked new laurels for a crown 
And carelessly you tossed them down, 
Nor saw them, how they burst in flame 
Of love and honour round your feet. 
Where men would follow to the death. 
Or leaping forward, at a breath, 
A sign from you, their fate would greet, 
Glad at your word to fight, to die, 
Your name their banner through Eternity. 



84 



FOR F. G. F. 

You walked on Vimy ridge while overhead 
You heard our shells fly screaming for their prey: 
Nor could your eyes follow their rushing way 
So swift in ravening search their flight was sped. 
You saw them fall to swell the toll of dead 
Where the white hne of German trenches lay, 
And marked them burst in a dark cloud of spray 
Where life and pain their fearful hunger fed. 
You passed huge craters that the battle tore, 
And saw the bones of the shell-tortured earth 
Chalk-white with presage of eternal dearth, 
Where thousands died, where suffered thousands 

more. 
You draw the picture and we seem to stand 
Beside you in that worn and wasted land. 



% 



R. L. L. C. 

Died of Wounds in Mesopotamia, 

Dec. 18, 1916 

I hold his slender missive in my hand, 

A friendly word to bring us Christmas cheer. 

Wafted as if by magic power here, 

Past perils of storm and foe by sea and land; 

Words written there beside the desert sand, 

While thoughts of home, and friends, and England 

dear 
Filled the young heart where was no place for fear, 
And life seemed simple, not sublime nor grand. 
I think of how he hes so very still, 
Released from war's huge turmoil and its pain. 
Careless of youth, hope, energy and will. 
And conscious only of revealing gain, 
As if a door had opened to the hght. 
And he had left behind the world's dark night. 



86 



TO A. C. 

Escaped from Germany, June, 1917 

With youth's undaunted faith in splendid Fate 
He took his hfe in calm adventurous hands. 
Broke the invisible yet hateful bands 
That fettered him. Slipt past the prisoning gate, 
And crossed a raging land beset with foes. 
Sped noiseless over rivers in the dark. 
Through moors and forests, compassed to his mark 
By the half-laughing courage that o'erthrows 
Fear and its fellow, doubt. Braving dismay, 
He swam with eager strokes a lazy stream, 
Till freedom shone before him like a dream, 
While daylight mocked where heather-hid he lay. 
Then in one swift, exultant dash beneath the night 
He reached the goal of his triumphant flight. 



87 



TO A. C. 

For Two Years and Eight Months a Prisoner 
OF War in Germany. Escaped July, 1917 

His young, free spirit mocked at keys and bars 

And cried "How turn this mischief to account? 

Make this my ladder whereupon I mount 

Till I can breathe clear air beneath the stars? 

My heart's not captive. No denial mars 

My thought. What fair adventure may I count 

New heights to conquer? How may I surmount 

This flimsy barrier? In what winged cars 

Shall I set forth defying Time and Space 

To seek new knowledge? Here's a gift of tongues. 

Here's skill in fence. Of these I'll make the rungs 

I'll climb. Here's colour, beauty, grace 

Remembered, loved." Meeting with quiet eyes 

Outrageous Fate, she taught him how to rise. 



88 



YOUTH 

I met a boy that was in love with Hfe. 

"For hfe is keen," he said, "and sweet to Hve. 

No goodher favour could Bright Fortune give, 

Than send me safe from this most helhsh strife." 

Now this fair boy was out of love with love. 

"For love," he said, "is but a witless thing 

That steals the joy from life and leaves a sting." 

I breathed a flying prayer to powers above, 

For he was all on fire with flaming youth; 

His eager heart awing with beating life; 

His eyes were clear and blue, his hps were rife 

With undreamed kisses, and his soul was truth. 

If life and love and he together meet. 

May love, than life prove dearer and more sweet. 

June, 1917. 



89 



JANUARY 15, 1918 

For Me, an Historic Encounter with a Young 
Soldier Just Back on a Fourteen Days' 
Leave 

He said, "I was at Cambrai in a tank," 
" Yes, in the last big scrap. We took their line, 
Part of the famous Hindenberg, you know. 
Why, in one place there was a flight of steps, 
Sixty, that led straight down into the earth; 
And rooms were there, all dry and Hned with wood. 
Bells, and electric light. Oh! Everything 
You'd dream for comfort. They were settled there 
To spend the winter, but they scuttled off 
When we came over. Left all sorts of things 
They hurried so, food on the plates untouched. 
Meat, bread and jam, fun^ny it was to see; 
And stores of stuff. We captured lots of things. 
How did they manage their return surprise? 
Oh! In the old way. We were confident. 
Too sure, — we always are, — and tried to hold 
The line with half a handful of our men. 
And we, worn out for sleep, — in fourteen days 
You understand, there'd been no breathing-space, — 
Were all asleep. Fritz dropped some big ones round 
And we half woke. My mate said "Carry on!" 
And turned upon his other side and slept. 
Then came our orders. We were to retire. 
I tell you we were sick and mad enough 
90 



To have to give back all that hard-won ground. 

We got back safe? Oh! Yes, we got back safe; 

We lost no men but stores and stores of stuff 

More than you know. Red Cross, a heap of that, 

And ammunition too, and our supplies. 

But what I say about the whole bad thing, 

Is, we shall never, never beat the Boche, 

Nor he beat us, through haK a hundred years. 

He's organized away ahead of us. 

The least detail is all worked out with him. 

And this, — If people over here could know 

Just what it's like. If they could go and see 

And satisfy themselves of everything, 

I tell you that this war would have to end." 

Jan. 18, 1918. 



01 



JANUARY FIRST, 1918 

A wind came up at midnight 
And blew across the wold 
With little gasping pauses, 
Sharp-edged with stinging cold. 

The New Year stood before me 
Shrinking and sad and gray, 
A little wistful figure 
That longed to run away. 

Old, tired, mournful Last Year 
Crept off into the gloom, 
Spake in complaining whisper 
'"Twas not my fault, but doom. 

"I saw my morning open 
With faith in better things; 
I prayed for peaceful ending 
To my sad wanderings. 

" Have pity on this infant 
Who comes so fearful in; 
Pray God to grant in mercy 
He may not pass in sin. 

"By your own firm endeavour 
To trust in Peace and Right 
You help to clear the error 
That shrouds the world in night. 
92 



" Look on my grievous sorrow 
For all my weary days 
Before I go forever 
Into oblivion's haze. 

" I longed to make yQU happy, 
I longed to make you wise. 
I spread my fairest treasures 
Before your blinded eyes. 

"You watched black death and battle 
Sweep down my lovely fields, 
Where every trampled acre 
Harvest of horror yields. 

"You stopped your ears in torment 
To Christ's forgiving word, 
' All children of one Father,' 
He spake, but who hath heard? 

" Ydu saw your tired brothers 
Faint with dark wounds return. 
But you were unrelenting 
' Fight on, we may not turn, 

"One faith, one hope, one purpose, — 
To clear the world of wrong.' 
You said, nor will you waver 
From that great battle song. 

"But as the surging tumult 
Is by your own decree. 
Pity the Years you live in. 
In mercy, pity me. 
93 



"And to this frightened creature 
Who follows in my place 
Grant in your heart some measure 
Of tenderness and grace, 

" Rejoice in light and colour 
Wherewith he bathes the world ; 
Look at the dower of beauty 
In budding petals curled. 

" Listen to all the chorus 

Of joy and hope and love 

That springs from earth around you, 

That falls from skies above. 

" The magic of the morning, 
The triumph of the day, 
The promise of rich harvest, 
From thrusting spears of May; 

" Nor judge too harsh my Brother, 
Born now to be your friend, 
Intent to bless and aid you 
Unchanging to the end." 



94 



..L'JJjjJJJ OF CONGRESS 

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